


I'm No Superman

by mystiri1



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-28
Updated: 2011-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-15 04:33:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mystiri1/pseuds/mystiri1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cloud's not sure he's cut out for this superhero thing...</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm No Superman

Robots were bad enough, Cloud thought as he headed upwards, using the occasional passing window ledge to give himself an extra burst of speed, but whoever thought of giving them laser-beam eyes should be shot. Repeatedly. First in the kneecaps, then anywhere else that promised to be painful and not instantly fatal.

Of course, he wasn’t supposed to be thinking like that. No, as a superhero, he was supposed to be about justice, and redemption, and all that jazz. There were days when he thought being about kicking ass would be much better. Certainly more satisfying.

And it would help if he was actually managing to kick robot ass, as well.

Unfortunately, the robots were wearing him down. He’d taken out three so far, but there were six altogether, so that meant he still had half of them to deal with. He knew how things were supposed to work: being horribly outnumbered, he’d fight valiantly, nearly die, and somehow manage to emerge victorious. But he was beginning to wonder if the ‘nearly’ wasn’t going to be dropped from that sentence, along with ‘emerge victorious’.

He should never have let himself be talked into this superhero thing. The Company was very persuasive – he’d been dazzled with the thought of heroics, with saving the day and being the kind of person others looked up to. But it didn’t mention the long, gruelling training, the ridiculous hours involved, or the fact that there was a good chance he could get himself killed anytime he went on an assignment, especially as he was coming to the conclusion his superpowers were considerably less super than he’d allowed himself to believe.

He reached the roof, and had a few minutes grace to catch his breath while the mechanical monsters swarmed their way up the concrete façade. It was only as he heard them getting closer he began to look around for potential weapons. Unfortunately, there were very few objects on the roof at all. The most obvious projectiles were a random collection of potted plants huddled in one corner.

Cloud sighed. He tried to follow everything he’d been told, and it had seemed fairly straightforward when they began shooting up the street below. ‘Keep civilians out of the line of fire.’ It was one of the rules outlined in the Company handbook. So he’d headed up, with a few shouted taunts to ensure the robots realised they were meant to follow. Unfortunately, that meant he was now on a rooftop with nothing to throw at them, and three robots with laser beams about to crawl over the edge and start shooting, because _their_ boss didn’t send them out without any weapons.

And the annoying part was he was sure the Company would approve. Such clashes were best kept out of the public eye because superheroes should remain mysterious, and if he should end up dying in the process, well, he supposed his end would be mysterious enough for anybody. The Company would send one of their clean-up crews, and his corpse would never be seen again, leaving the possibility that he wasn’t really dead to tease at the public consciousness. It was like the Elvis thing, only slightly more credible.

He floated upwards slightly, hoping a better view would reveal some suitably sharp or heavy object hiding behind a vent. Nothing. The best he found was a slightly-rusted hand-trowel hidden amongst the pots. And the first of the machines was now coming over the edge.

It looked a little like a spider. Cloud hated spiders. His mother had an irrational fear of them, and had always made him dispose of any that found their way into the house. He wasn’t afraid of them; he’d just seen too many of them up close over the years, and they turned his stomach. What did they need all those legs for, anyway? And they moved fast, too.

He levitated one of the pots up, and sent it sailing with some force towards where the optical array seemed to be located. It smashed against the head in a shower of dirt and pottery shards. A brief flash of red suggested it was trying to use its laser beams, but couldn’t through the dirt. Cloud felt a momentary thrill of triumph, and he sent the rusted hand-trowel aiming for the joint between body and neck. There was a shower of sparks as it struck, and the robotic limbs spasmed wildly before stopping.

Four down, two to go.

But it became clear that the trowel was stuck in place, and it wouldn’t be able to be used a second time. Another crawled over the edge, and Cloud hurled a pot towards it, wondering if maybe a pottery shard would prove as detrimental to the joints. He tried it, shoving the largest piece into the gap, but it disintegrated against the metal casing.

A sudden searing pain through his left arm shattered his concentration, and he fell to the concrete surface of the roof with a pained cry. The last of the robots had come up another side of the building, and had caught him unaware. He blinked, trying to orient himself. The metallic sounds of the robots bounced oddly about amongst the maze of ventilation shafts and ducts. There was one in front of him, and the other was off to his right. It sounded like it was getting -

There was a sudden crash as the last of the robotic spiders landed directly in front of him. It had jumped? None of the others did that. Cloud looked at the metallic limb heading his way at high speed, and realised there was nothing he could do to stop it. “Oh shi-”

 

*     *     *

 

Zack made a running leap for the next building, and let out an exultant yell as he sailed through the air. There was nothing below him except traffic – and a forty-floor drop. Sephiroth thought he was crazy to do this, but then his silver-haired friend thought Zack was crazy most of the time, so that didn’t really matter. And he’d noticed the other man had taken to accompanying him on his morning ‘runs’ about the city, just in case he did miss his landing.

He didn’t. He bent his knees as he landed, diffusing the impact slightly, and paused to look up for the familiar winged figure. Not for the first time he wished he had some kind of ability to fly to go with his super-strength and reflexes, but he supposed being able to jump between tall buildings in a single bound wasn’t so bad.

Sephiroth had pulled up sharply, and drawn the sword he was so famous for. As Zack watched, he stooped towards a nearby building in a sharp dive. “Looks like trouble,” Zack said to himself, and grinned as he changed his course. He ran for the edge of the building and leapt again.

Two buildings later, he found Sephiroth battling some kind of giant robotic spider. As he watched, the man lost patience, a fireball building in one hand. He tossed it at the robot with an irritated snarl. It appeared that however tough an opponent the robot was, it couldn’t survive having its front half melted into molten slag.

“Wow, talk about overkill,” Zack remarked with a friendly grin. He looked at the wreckage strewn about the rooftop. “Really, Seph, there were three of them and you still couldn’t save one for poor little me?”

Sephiroth frowned. “I didn’t kill the first one. There was someone else here.”

“What?”

“I think it’s this way.”

Sephiroth stalked between the ventilation shafts, feathers rustling in a manner Zack recognised as agitation, while he followed close behind. Close enough that he nearly crashed into his wings when he stopped. Zack caught himself just as time – Sephiroth’s wings were kind of sensitive, and he didn’t appreciate anybody messing with them. Well, not in most circumstances, anyway.

He peered around his friend and his eyes widened as he took in a figure in an outfit that was familiar and unfamiliar. A skin-tight outfit in sky blue with a yellow belt and cape, and some kind of symbol on the chest. Standard Company-issue superhero gear.

“Damn, Seph, he’s practically a kid! He was fighting those things?”

“I believe so.” Zack didn’t have to look at the Silver Sword to know he was frowning. “What is the Company thinking sending someone like him out on a solo mission against multiple targets?”

“We don’t know what his powers are,” Zack pointed out. “Maybe they thought he could handle it.”  More likely, the mission was deemed relatively unimportant, and the kid was expendable. He knelt beside him. There was a nasty bump rising on the boy’s forehead, and some kind of burn on his arm. “What did this?”

“They seemed to be armed with lasers.”

“Ouch.” Zack looked up. “So are we taking him back to our place?”

“Why would we do that?”

“Do you want to leave him here for the Company to take care of? I mean, they are doing such a wonderful job so far.” Zack didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm in his voice. They both had their own reasons for disliking the Company, and had gone their own way years ago. Although the Company sometimes asked their help, and occasionally shared information, they both had a healthy distrust for the top-secret, paramilitary organisation. The Company liked secrecy too much.

“Alright,” Sephiroth agreed. “But I’m carrying him. I don’t want you dropping him over heavy traffic.”

Zack pouted. “As if I’d do that.” He grinned. “He’s much too cute to be road kill.”

 

*     *     *

 

Cloud opened his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. His apartment was far from impressive, and the ceiling had a large water-stain from the time the apartment upstairs had flooded. There were several worrying cracks that snaked their way through the mark, leaving him to wonder if someday the whole thing would collapse on top of him. His ‘mundane’ job was as a night guard at a local zoo, and it didn’t pay all that well. But this ceiling was a clear, pristine white, and several feet higher than he was used to.

“Oh, hey, you’re awake,” a cheerful voice announced off to his right. Cloud looked towards it, only just taking in what seemed to be a luxuriously appointed bedroom, before his eyes alighted on a figure he knew all too well.

A man with spiky black hair and gleaming violet eyes grinned at him. He was dressed in a charcoal-coloured vest and fitted charcoal pants with boots that came to his thigh. Armour-like plates decorated each shoulder, and when he moved, the vest picked up a purple sheen that matched his eyes.

“You’re Captain Fair!” Cloud choked. Captain Fair was famous. Even those who didn’t follow the exploits of various superheroes and villains knew of him. He’d taken down giant monsters and fought some of the worst villains. Women who were rescued by him swore by his good looks and charm. He’d even fought alongside the legendary Silver Sword!

Captain Fair shrugged dismissively. “Yeah, that’s me. Just call me Zack. After all, we’re all superheroes here, right?” He grinned as if this was a great joke.

Cloud flushed. He remembered what had happened on the rooftop. One of those robots hit him so hard he passed out from the blow, and that meant – “You rescued me, then?” He wished he could just sink into the bed and vanish from the embarrassment.

“No, not me. I would have, but Seph beat me to it. Two robots and he couldn’t save one for me? Talk about selfish.”

 _‘Seph?’_ Cloud wondered before another figure appeared in the door and answered his unasked question. Cat-like eyes and a long fall of silver hair that could only belong to one man: the Silver Sword. He didn’t have wings at the moment, which made Cloud wonder where they went when he wasn’t using them, but it was still definitely him. His childhood hero was standing in the doorway. His childhood hero, Sephiroth, the Silver Sword, the man some called the General because he stood so far above any _regular_ superhero, had rescued him.

Caught somewhere between squealing in childish glee and dying of mortal embarrassment, Cloud could feel his cheeks turning an even darker shade of crimson.

“I, uh, hope I didn’t cause you any trouble,” he squeaked out.

“Not at all,” Sephiroth replied.

Cloud swallowed. Sephiroth’s voice was so deep and refined, and his own sounded like it was just breaking. He was twenty-two now, and a superhero. He was supposed to have escaped all those high school humiliations that had dogged his teenage years. But somehow two years of community college, and even the training given to him by the Company, hadn’t prepared him for this.

“So, I’m Zack, and this is Seph -”

The brunet waved offhandedly towards the door, where the silver-haired man glared and hissed, “It’s Sephiroth, _Zackary,_ how many times do I have to tell you?”

“What’s your name?” he finished.

“Cloud.”

“Oh, man, they named you Cloud? You should write a formal protest, Spike; that sucks as a superhero name!”

“Ah… That’s my real name. Cloud Strife.”

“Oh.” Zack ran a hand through his own spiky hair, and gave an awkward laugh. “Oops. My bad.”

Cloud sighed. “No, it gets worse. The name the Company gave me is really bad.”

“So what is it?” Zack leaned forward. “I tried guessing based on your costume, and I have to say, Cloud seemed quite reasonable – it’s a very pretty blue, after all, and hey, it matches your eyes, but I couldn’t figure out what the thing on your chest was -”

“Zack.”

“Yes?” He turned to look at Sephiroth.

“If you’re quiet for a moment, the boy might be able to answer.”

“Oh. Right.” Zack fell silent, and looked at Cloud expectantly.

Cloud’s shoulder slumped. “The Golden Feather.”

“What?” Zack blinked.

“The Golden Feather. The man who thought it up said that it made sense, because of my powers and… my hair.”

“Oh, man, they’re letting Rude pick names again, aren’t they? I swear, that man’s about as creative as a brick. The sad thing is he probably thought that was brilliant.”

“His partner certainly thought it was.” Cloud scowled.

“That’s because they don’t let Reno pick names anymore. Not since the Yellow Streak incident.” Zack shuddered. “That… wasn’t pretty.”

“Yellow Streak?”

“Yeah, that one got changed. But the Screaming Meemie was stuck with her name. Sure, her powers were all in her voice, but I’m convinced that’s why she finally went nutso on us. That was really bad. They were replacing broken windows for months afterwards.” Zack nodded. “I told her, Meemie, you write up a formal protest on your computer, and every day, you print out a copy and send it to the boss. Bureaucracies only like paperwork when they’re the ones generating it. But she kept saying it wasn’t that bad, that if she stuck it out and did well, then they’d give her a better name.”

Cloud stared. He had to be making that up. He looked at Sephiroth for confirmation of this, but the Silver Sword was surprisingly sombre-looking. “It’s not that bad, is it? The Golden Feather? I mean, I don’t think I’ll go crazy or anything.”

Zack gave him an encouraging smile. “That’s the spirit, Spike! But keep in mind the computer-generated letter approach: I always found it worked surprisingly well when I was with the Company.”

“That’s because they were afraid of your approach to spelling and grammar, Zack,” Sephiroth interrupted. “If Cloud is feeling better, then he might want to join us for lunch.”

“I don’t want to be any trouble,” Cloud protested.

“You won’t be,” Sephiroth replied before leaving in a swirl of silver hair.

“Damn, I wish I had his talent for dramatic exits,” Zack mourned. “Or entrances. There’s this girl I know with a real talent for finding trouble, and every time I come to her rescue, I end up falling through the roof…”

 

*    *    *

 

By the end of lunch, Cloud had managed to relax. He still felt his breath catch every time he looked up and saw the Silver Sword sitting across the table from him, but none of the stories he’d heard about the man as a child included his ability to make a delicious smoked chicken salad with freshly baked, crusty bread rolls. He’d have assumed they were bought, but the smell of bread fresh from the oven lingered in the air and Sephiroth had himself admitted that he liked baking because it relaxed him.

Zack had immediately chimed in that eating Sephiroth’s baking made him feel pretty good, too, and hey, there wasn’t any chance of chocolate cake in the near future, was there?

They were certainly a mismatched pair. Zack never stopped talking, and usually had a friendly grin on his face. Sephiroth rarely spoke and was most often straight-faced, although Cloud had caught sight of a small smile curving those lips a couple of times – usually right before Sephiroth responded to Zack’s latest outrageous remark. They seemed incredibly comfortable with each other, and Cloud envied that.

He tried to picture being that comfortable with anyone he knew, but the problem was he just didn’t know all that many people. There were a handful of friends from high school and college, but he’d moved away from his home town, and didn’t really keep in touch with any of them. His job as a security guard didn’t exactly involve a great deal of social interaction – zoo animals weren’t big on talking – and the Company didn’t strike him as a great place for making friends.

But Zack did have a way of making him feel comfortable. He found himself telling them all kinds of things, and it was a relief to have somebody he could talk to about it. He hadn’t told any of his friends about his powers, for example; he just felt too self-conscious about it all.

“I was hiking in the mountains during a break from college,” Cloud explained, “when there was a landslide. I got caught up in it, and when I landed, it was in a puddle of glowing ooze.” He sighed. “I grew up in Nibelheim, so of course I knew about the old reactor, but it was just one of those things you don’t really think about, you know? It was just there. I never thought it would have any effect on me, but not long after things started happening, and then a couple of guys in black suits turned up on my doorstep.”

“Yeah, it’s freaky how they do that,” Zack commiserated. “Makes you wonder just how much they know, and how they know it. But glowing ooze, huh? That’s so… traditional.” He grinned, and Cloud felt his lips curve in an answering grin. It was traditional, right out of a comic book. Perhaps that was why he’d had so much trouble believing it when it happened to him.

“What about you? How did you get your powers?” Cloud asked him.

Sephiroth snorted. “Would you believe this idiot volunteered?”

Cloud looked at him in astonishment. “He volunteered?”

“Yup,” Zack replied. “I was in the military, and they wanted to try these enhancements to make better, stronger soldiers. I thought, ‘Sure, why not?’ Only they shut the programme down pretty quick, and I found myself seconded to the Company, because my unit was…” He searched for the words.

“A political liability and a media nightmare,” Sephiroth pointed out. “Somebody higher up recognised just how bad it would look if it got out the military was shooting up their own men with experimental drugs and genetic modifications, and they canned it. Of course, some of the procedures had already gone ahead, and a handful of soldiers like Zackary existed with no place to go. So the Company took charge of things. They were involved in the programme to start with, as it was related to some research they had funded.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much it,” Zack agreed. “You know, if they’d told me how many injections were involved, I would have said no. I don’t like needles.”

Sephiroth gave him a flat stare. “You,” he said firmly, “are an idiot.”

Zack fluttered his lashes. “But you love me anyway.”

“Hn.” Sephiroth stood and began clearing the table. Cloud hurriedly got to his feet and grabbed a few plates, determined to help.

He slid a sideways glance towards the taller man. Sephiroth was one of the few superheroes who simply didn’t bother with a secret identity. He was too well-known, and despite his easily recognisable appearance, it seemed reporters mostly left him alone. Of course, Cloud thought as he glanced around the luxurious penthouse apartment, enough money to buy really good security probably didn’t hurt, either.  Although now he thought about it, Zack didn’t exactly bother with a secret identity, either. Not from what Zack had told him. He really was Captain Zack Fair. Perhaps it was just that people didn’t expect superheroes to be as upfront and open about things as Zack was.

He’d heard things about Sephiroth, read things, but it mostly seemed to be speculation centring on HRI Ltd, the family business that Sephiroth had inherited. He didn’t think anything had ever been confirmed. Feeling daring, he asked, “Uh, sir? What about you? I mean, how did you get your powers?”

As green cats-eyes fixed on him, he wanted to melt into the carpet. It was probably horribly rude of him to ask, although it wasn’t exactly as if there was an etiquette-for-superheroes book out there, just those numerous handbooks of Company regulations and guidelines. None of those addressed how you were supposed to act around other superheroes; it was all about maintaining secret identities, protecting civilians and filing the appropriate reports. But Sephiroth was his host, and now here he was being nosy as well as intrusive –

“I was an experiment,” Sephiroth finally replied, interrupting the panicked babble in his head. “My father owned a company that carried out high-level scientific research; I was one of his favourite subjects.”

Cloud nearly dropped the plates he was holding, his eyes widening. “Your own father experimented on you!? But that’s – That’s awful!”

“That’s what I’ve always said.” Zack sounded approving as he followed them into the kitchen. “Hojo was a psychopath. He knew what he did was wrong, and he did it anyway. That greater good stuff he always spouted was bullshit.” It had the ring of an old argument.

Sephiroth didn’t respond to Zack’s words directly. Instead he spoke to Cloud. “HRI Ltd and the Company were heavily involved together at the time. It was why I originally worked with the Company, and also why I left. My father is now dead, and so, too, is Rufus’ father, but there are certain mindsets that are hard to completely change within an organisation of that nature. Rufus is not the man his father was, but he still tends to believe the ends justify the means.”

Cloud handed over his stack of plates and watched as Sephiroth loaded them into the dishwasher. He’d met Rufus several times, and had found him cold, ruthless and a little intimidating. Cloud didn’t want to think that he’d approve of something like human experimentation, but apparently the Company had done so several times in the past. Suddenly he felt very small and uncertain. These were the people he worked for, and it didn’t seem that they were very nice people.

“Hey, cheer up, Spike! Like Seph said, it was a long time again, and none of it happened while Rufus was in charge. His father was a real piece of work, though,” Zack admitted. “It’s no wonder Blondie comes across as such an unfeeling bastard.”

“That because Rufus is an unfeeling bastard,” Sephiroth asserted, pushing several buttons on the dishwasher. There was the sound of water rushing through pipes as it began its cycle. He wiped his hands off on a nearby towel, and turned towards them. “Tell me, Cloud, how much training did the Company give you?”

Cloud ducked his head, reminded again of his own incompetence. What kind of superhero needed to be rescued? “Well, there was this camp-type place they sent me to for a couple of months, and I’m supposed to be taking regular martial arts classes, too. I have been; I’m just not all that good at it, yet.”

“So, in short, although you are still relatively inexperienced in combat, the Company sent you out against multiple targets with no backup.” Sephiroth didn’t seem to mean it as a condemnation against Cloud, but the blond felt himself flush, anyway. “That is what I mean about it being difficult to change certain mindsets. Rufus may want to protect the civilian public, but he considers his own people expendable. It is not an approach I can agree with.”

“And hand-to-hand is all well and good,” Zack added, “but you should really have a weapon of some sort, too. The bad guys are never unarmed; why should we be? Seph’s got his sword and his fireballs and a few other tricks, I’ve got my sword and my superior strength, plus good looks and charm, and I tell you, nobody’s ever prepared for that -”

“How could they be?” Sephiroth murmured.

“- and you’ve got that telekinesis thing. You should at least have some kind of projectile weapon. Maybe ninja throwing stars or those funny little knives they have? I’ll have to ask Yuffie where she gets hers. And you can probably do a lot more physically than you’re aware of. Most superpowers do come with an increase in physical abilities; you just need to train yourself up some more. If you put your powers behind your physical attacks, too, you could probably be pretty damned unstoppable. I can help you train if you want. Would you like to learn to use a sword while you’re at it?”

“Uh -”

Sephiroth took pity on him. “You can tell Zack to shut up when he starts talking without stopping for breath, you know. Otherwise he’ll just keep going.”

Cloud blinked. The entire day had a somewhat surreal edge, and this had just added to it. He had Captain Fair offering to teach him how to use a sword and other things, and the Silver Sword telling him it was alright to tell the other superhero to shut up, and Sephiroth had made him lunch with fresh-baked bread then loaded up the dishwasher as if there was nothing strange about it. The odd mixture of the extraordinary with the incredibly mundane seemed to be frying his brain cells. He’d never expected the two of them to be so normal. They were superheroes, and superheroes were supposed to be special, right? Only he was supposed to be a superhero now, and he didn’t feel all that different so maybe-

Maybe it was alright to just relax and go with it.

“I think learning how to use a sword sounds interesting; I’d like that,” he ventured, and was rewarded with a huge grin from Zack. When he turned his head he saw that Sephiroth was wearing that little smile again, too. It made him feel included, somehow; like he belonged there with them, rather than on the outside looking in. It was a nice feeling.

Cloud smiled.


End file.
